Dern right ... he’ll just stick to his native tongue

I heard somethin’ on my truck radio the other day while I was drivin’ though my pasture lookin’ for a coyote that might’ve killed one of my baby antelopes. The news report I heard chapped my hide worse than a streaker’s thighs in a west Texas sandstorm. Normally, when I hear somethin’ that seems a bit far-fetched, I hop on the internet and do some extensive research, but after all these nice rains we’ve had lately, I have grass higher than a jackrabbit’s ears and weeds tall enough to tickle a giraffe’s butt, and all my spare time is spent driving a Ford tractor. So if some of my facts are twisted worse than a pair of rattlers doin’ the wild thang, then blame it on the rain.

I heard that some professor up in a big college somewhere published a paper that shows Americans across this great country of ours are startin’ to lose their regional dialects, and in the next few generations, all Americans will speak the same lingo. This ol’ prof claims with all the TV and other mass communication that young-uns hear these days, soon they will start speakin’ more like the people on electronic contraptions than what they hear from their parents and grandparents.

At first, I thought this fancy-pants educator was more loco than a possum eatin’ sour mash, but the more I pondered as I drove into the woods half-cocked and fully loaded, still searchin’ for that dang varmit, I began to think he might have a point. In most cities, and I’ll include that metropolis of maniacs just north of Hays County, there are immigrants from every state in our nation, not to mention folks from other countries, who are crammed together like steers in a boxcar. Over time, they start speakin’ the same language. I’m not sure how they learn this urban dialect so swiftly, but I suspect they have some Rosetta Stone program downloaded in their i-pods since everyone on city streets is wearing earphones for some reason.

In my long life, I have lived in and visited several regions of the southern United States, and I’ll have you know that even though we are all southerners, we do talk a bit diff’rnt. Now, I’m told Texans have a right strong accent, but at least you can decipher what we are tellin’ y’all. Head over to southern Louisiana and ask some bare-chested, bearded fella with fewer teeth than a young rooster where’s the best place to catch you some crawdads. I guarantee he’ll talk for 30 minutes and you won’t have the slightest idea what he just said.

Drive on over to eastern Tennessee, ‘longside the Smoky Mountains and ‘round Gatlinburg, and start up a conversation with those folks. They’re some of these nicest folks you’ll ever meet, but dang if they don’t talk peculiar. There’s a right nice town just south of Knoxville that’s written on the map as “Maryville”, but the folks livin’ there and near ‘bout call the town “Murval”. I used to think they were talkin’ ‘bout a diff’rnt town, but I reckon Maryville just had too many syllables. I ain’t right sure, but I suspect the toddlers in Maryville grew accustomed to hearing the nursery rhyme “Merv Had a Little Lamb”.

Well, while we’re in this neck of the woods, let’s mosey on into Georgia. What a charming southern accent you’ll find there in the small towns. Again, some real sociable folks, and they all sound like Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara. Now, if you are in the Atlanta airport, you probably won’t hear this southern dialect, but there is no shortage of funny-talkin’ folks wonderin’ around and servin’ vittles at the food court.

Let’s head on up the road and get into North Carolina, Maw’s homestate and the home of my numerous in-laws. Once again, there aren’t a group of friendlier people than those found in small Carolina towns, but their vernacular is a tad diff’rnt than the proper English we speak here in Texas. You won’t have no trouble understandin’ Carolina folks since the majority of ‘em still got all their teeth and most of their wits, but they do have a heavy accent and use terminology that still confuses this Texas cowboy. In North Carolina, they use the word “carry” when we Texans would use the word “take”. For example, when I was new to family, I heard one of my in-laws ask another “Can you carry Granny to the beauty shop tomorrow?” I wasn’t right sure how much Granny weighed or how far the beauty parlor was, but I, being a fairly educated fella, figured this was going to be a bit of a task and said, “Hey, no need to bust a gut, I can take her in my truck.” I soon adapted to this Appalachian accent after numerous family dinners with chicken’n dumplins, fresh corn and homemade biscuits.

Now, I ain’t never been north of the Mason-Dixon Line, and have no desire to visit. I hear there are some right purty places up in Maine and Vermont, but if I want to see mountains and tall trees, I’ll head to Colorado where they speak in a language I understand. As for visitin’ New York City, well, I’d rather be shoved into a burlap bag with a ticked-off bobcat. Too much dad-gum concrete and not enough elbow room in the Big Apple for this country bumpkin. Besides, I don’t know if a New York waiter would understand me if I order a mess of calf fries and a col’ beer. No sir, this country boy is fine and dandy traipsing across Dixie where I speak the language, even if it ain’t as sophisticated as Texican. As for the entire country learnin’ to speak the same way, I’ve got no problem with folks in those other 49 states talkin’ alike, but here in Texas, we’ll stick with our native tongue.

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